


The Choice

by Kethrielle



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Post-Endgame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-26
Updated: 2015-03-26
Packaged: 2018-03-19 19:07:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3620934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kethrielle/pseuds/Kethrielle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three months after Corypheus' defeat, Solas returns to Skyhold to speak with the Inquisitor.  But he isn't just there to apologize.  Oneshot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Choice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Willowsle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Willowsle/gifts).



It had taken three long months for her to get to this point.  Standing quietly on her balcony, her eyes fixed on the endless expanse of stars above her, she sighed out a long breath and whispered into the night.

“Ar lath ma, Solas.  Be well.”

For three months, she had raged and wept by turns, wondering what had happened.  She had begged - sometimes the Creators, sometimes Leliana - for some reason for his actions.  There had been answer from either quarter, of course.  Solas had disappeared as thoroughly as if he never existed; something rather closer to the truth than what he’d told her, according to Leliana.

Marel raised a hand and wipes the silent tears from her unblemished face.  Her fingers lingered over the places where her vallaslin had wound, and she missed them.  This too had taken time; time to forgive him for removing them, time to forgive herself for letting him.  She knew now that it had been a mistake, letting him take something that held such meaning to her, but she had been blinded by love - his love for her and hers for him - and it had been the only thing he had truly asked of her for himself.

Finally, though, she was able to release the pain, and the anger, she had held where he was concerned.  He had told her from the beginning, after all, that a relationship wasn’t wise; she had gone ahead anyway, drawing him in with her, and it had been worth it.  She could hardly blame him for having told the truth.  Sighing again, she turned away from her balcony and moved back into her room.  She’d left it dark, the better to see the stars, so the small flame that hovered in the center of the room was immediately apparent.

She stumbled to a halt, shocked.  Solas knelt in the middle of her floor, a single flickering flame burning on his palm.  His head was bowed, his eyes closed; the black beads he often held while meditating clicking slightly as they slid through his fingers.  At her quiet step, he looked up, and his eyes locked on hers.  A breath extinguished the flame, a practiced twist of his fingers tucked the beads away.  He stood, just in time to catch her as she flung herself across the room and into his arms.

“Solas!  You’re back!”

She held him tightly, arms locked around his neck as she covered his face in eager kisses.  His hands settled on her waist, and for a moment he stood motionless, seeming surprised by her enthusiasm.  Finally, though, he slid his arms around her waist and pulled her in close, capturing her lips in a long kiss.

When she pulled back for breath, questions obvious on her face, her just trailed his mouth down her jaw and the side of her throat, burying his face in her shoulder and breathing her in.  She felt him relax slightly, and waited for him to speak.

“Forgive me, vhenan, for leaving you.  There were many mistakes I made, and I had hoped to be able to resolve them without hurting you.”

Marel stared at him, her jaw dropping.  “Solas, you hurt me by leaving!  Anything else we could have dealt with!”  She shook her head.  “Never mind that now; have you resolved those mistakes now?  Is that why you’re back?”

“Yes, and no.  After Haven, I told you that the Orb Corypheus carried was an elvhen artifact.  This was true, it was a focii, and it was mine.  I have lived many thousands of years, and I have gone by more names than this one, vhenan.  I have traveled the Fade extensively, as I told you; what I did not tell you was that I was in uthenera at the time.”

He paused dropped his arms from her waist as she gasped.  “You’re…. you’re elvhen?  Like Abelas and the sentinels?”  

He turned away to pace the room.  “Yes, and no.  I am elvhen, I am not like Abelas.  He is a servant of Mythal; I was no one’s servant.  I have had many names, and not many of them are popular, vhenan.”  At her small sound of denial, half formed at best, he added, “I do not wish to hurt you, but you must understand these things so that you know why I must make the request I came here to make.”

Marel held up a hand to silence him, beginning to pace as her mind whirled with this new information.  Unfortunately, the hints he had given her now pointed all too clearly toward a single answer, which she did not want to acknowledge.  She reached her desk and spun back to face him, her arms folded across her chest.  

“Fen’Harel.”  It wasn’t a question, but he answered anyway.

“Yes, I was called Fen’Harel.  I locked the others away to save Arlathan from them.  I discovered that it is a lonely thing, being the only one left, and finally I gave in to the long sleep.  When I woke, you can imagine my surprise at the state of the world.  I determined to attempt to restore the elves to what they had lost, but I had depleted much of my power during my sleep, and could not access the focii.  I gave it to Corypheus, hoping he would manage what I could not.”

She stared at him, more deeply shocked at this piece of information than anything else that had passed between them.  “You _gave_ it to him?  And, what?  Expected him to just give it back?”

He growled, and crossed the room in a few quick strides, startling her.  “Yes, I realize it was stupid.  You need not remind me.”

She could see it now, the arrogant god, the Trickster, and she sighed as the last of her denial fell away.  

“Why come back, then?  The Orb truly is destroyed, you saw it.”

“The power of the Orb is lost, that is true, but I still may be able to correct the mistakes of the past if I have enough power.  I… attempted… to garner power in other ways while I was gone from you, but it is less than I had hoped, and will not be enough.”  

He kissed her, then, long and deep, and she melted against him.  Then he reached up set his palm gently on her cheek, his fingers brushing over her temple.  He was avoiding her gaze, though, which was her only warning.

He grabbed her left wrist and pulled it between them.  “The last of my power lies here, and I must have it back, vhenan.”

Marel’s blue eyes flared wide, and she jerked against his hold.  “No!  Solas, you can’t!  Corypeus tried, remember?  There is no way to reclaim the anchor.

His hand was as tight as a vise around her wrist and she couldn’t get away.

“Corypheus failed to steal back what you stole from him because it wasn’t his in the first place.  It is mine.  I will not fail.”

To her horror, the anchor flared to life at his will, and she could feel him trying to wrench the power away from her.  Angry now, she clenched her hand into a fist, and pulled back as hard as she could.  He strained against her, and so was taken by surprise when she changed suddenly from pulling to pushing, and rammed her fist into his nose.

He staggered away from her, shocked eyes meeting hers as she balled her hands into fists and crossed her arms over her chest, her left hand hidden protectively under her right arm.  She watched as anger replaced the shock on his features.

“You foolish child!  You think you can stand against me?  You think you should stand against me?  I can use that power to return your precious People to the lost glory of Arlathan!  I can use it to put things right!  What will you do with it?  Stumble around in ignorance?  Play nicely with the humans?  It is wasted on you!

“Can you imagine what it is like, to awaken to a world gone mad?  To a world where very people you sought to protect have either become slaves, or pitiful peasants barely better off?  Oh, and lets not forget your vaunted Dalish!  Clinging to what miserable bits of history they can unearth, and most of that incorrect!”  

His fingers flicked toward her face in a reminder of her vallaslin, and she flushed a brilliant red.

“You’ve played your part well enough, but I will prevail.”

Marel glowered at him, her breath coming in sharp gasps in her anger.

“Oh, the venerable historian!  The wise hahren.  You think you know everything don’t you?  Well, while you’re so focused on ancient history, Dread Wolf,” she spat the title at him, and was pleased when his lip lifted in a sneer, “let me fill you in on a little of the recent history of the people.

“You take this mark, and the entire Inquisition falls apart.  Everything we worked for, fought for, bled for will be gone.  You think Celene and Gaspard will tolerate the Inquisition’s interference for very long without the power this anchor bestows?  You’re a fool.  They’ll follow for a time, out of habit; a few others will follow for a bit longer out of respect, or loyalty.  But eventually, they will realize that they are free to go their own ways, and there will be no benefit to them in doing as the Inquisition wishes.  This will all fall apart, and Thedas will fall back into chaos.

“I will _not_ allow this to happen.  So, you have a choice to make, Dread Wolf.  If you want the anchor, you’ll have to fight me for it.”  At his incredulous snort, she nodded.  “Oh, I know I’m no match for you, but I _will_ fight, and I _will_ make you kill me in order to take this anchor.  As a martyr, I’m almost as much use as the Inquisitor; and more use than I would be alive without the mark.  Leliana and Josie are smart, they’ll be able to hold things together with a martyred Inquisitor long enough to decide on their next course of action.”

Her voice dropped to a whisper, “Besides, I have no wish to live in a world where you could do this to me, after all we’ve shared.  It would be better.”

Marel didn’t dare look at his face to see if he had heard her.  She took a deep breath and continued at a normal volume.

“Or, you can come back.  Work with me, with the Inquisition, to further all our goals.  Leave the anchor as it is, and learn how to work as part of a team; instead of working alone, or as some sort of shadowy puppet master pulling strings only you can see.  

“Any path to peace in Thedas will require improving the situation for all the People, and I would appreciate your knowledge in how this may be done, and what may be achieved.  But I will not be treated as your pawn.  Be a member of this team - truly this time - or leave.”

She drew a deep breath and straightened, finally meeting his eyes.  She saw surprise there, and annoyance that she would dare to give him an ultimatum.  She also saw respect, and perhaps something even more tender lurking in his gaze.

She locked her eyes on his before speaking.  “It is your choice, Solas.  Dread Wolf.  Fen’Harel.  Will you choose to fight me, and kill me?  Or will you work with me?”

Her eyes never left his as she slowly extended first her left hand, then her right toward him.  His gaze flicked downwards, weighing her words and his options, before returning to her face.

Her gaze remained steady on his as he stepped forward, and reached for her extended hand.

**Author's Note:**

> This story idea came from a couple readers who responded to my offer to write from a request. One comment over on FanFiction asked for a post game solmance with an apology. Willowsle asked for a post game story where Solas comes back to take the power of the anchor from a romanced Lavellan. I think both of them ended up with not quite what they wanted, so you know, caveat emptor and all that. Willowsle at least asked for much angst, and I think we've at least got that point covered! 
> 
> Hopefully it was still fun to read!
> 
> (Also, it's possible that I read The Lady or The Tiger too much when younger. Sorry!)


End file.
